


Open Up and Let It Be

by Agapostemon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Has BPD, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Self-Harm, there's a bit of cursing in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: Keith shows up at Lance’s door needing… help? Or something? Lance isn’t quite sure. Awkwardness ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Self-harm (major theme), cursing

Lance hears a knock at his door and shuffles over to it. It opens to reveal… Keith?

“H-hi,” the red paladin says stiffly, avoiding eye contact.

“Can I… help you?” Lance cocks an eyebrow.

“You said I could… if I needed to… you could…” Keith stammers.

Lance has no idea what he’s talking about, but upon further inspection he’s not sure the other paladin is okay? So he makes a face and ushers him in.

Keith stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, jaw clenched, looking around at everything except Lance. He keeps running his fingers over his own arms. A nervous habit? Lance has never seen him act like this.

“Are you… okay man?” Lance asks tentatively. Keith doesn’t respond, just keeps looking around, so Lance continues, “You gonna keep standing there like a weirdo or would you like to sit down like a normal person?”

Keith blinks a couple times, as if his trance has been broken, and makes his way over to Lance’s bed. He sits down and locks his eyes on a crumpled up shirt in the corner of the room.

Lance takes a seat across from him in his desk chair. They sit like that in silence for a few dobashes: Lance staring at Keith, Keith staring at Lance’s dirty laundry and fidgeting. 

As he watches Keith’s fingernails nervously trace his arms, Lance remembers something…

\---------------

It was a while back, shortly after they figured out how to get into the Altean pool (it was a convoluted process, but _so_ worth it). Keith was, once again, at the pool at the same time as Lance. They had gotten into some kind of splashing competition. Lance was winning. No one was there to judge it, but Lance was quite certain he was winning.

Eventually the splashing subsided and Lance saw a glimpse of Keith’s shoulder. It was covered in maybe half a dozen thin red lines, scabbed over cuts in his skin. Lance, in all his tactful glory, immediately pointed out his discovery, “Hey, what happened there? ‘S that from our last battle?” (It clearly was not.)

Keith just grunted and shrugged.

Lance’s eyes widened, “Whoa whoa whoa whoa, wait. Did you…”

Keith locked eyes with him and glowered.

Lance’s voice softened, “Why?”

Keith mulled the question over for a bit, as if contemplating whether it justified an answer. Finally, he spoke softly but gruffly, “It gets rid of the tension.” He pauses, then, “I get… angry. And it lets me get rid of the tension. Y’know, without hurting anybody.”

Lance blinked, “Uhhhh, I hate to point out the obvious, but you are… technically hurting somebody.” He punctuated his sentiment with a nervous grin and an exaggerated shrug.

“I meant…” Keith growled and turned around with a small splash, “Ugh! Forget it.”

“Okay well uh…” Lance’s brow creased, “If you ever wanna _not_ be a self-destructive idiot, you can… come talk to me, I guess?”

Keith turned back around and splashed him. After that the subject was dropped.

\---------------

Oh, shit. Shit shit shit… is he here because…? Why did Lance make that offer? Why did he think he could handle this? Stupid stupid _stupid_! He didn’t even _like_ Keith! Right?

“Wait, are you here because…” Lance squeaks, leaning over to try and catch the other boy’s eye contact.

Keith switches his gaze to a boot on the other side of the room, “Because what?”

“Okay, we don’t even like each other,” declares Lance, “so this is stupid.”

“You mean _you_ don’t like _me_ ,” Keith growls, but his voice carries a hint of sadness that Lance doesn’t quite catch.

“Either way,” Lance shrugs, “I dunno why you came to _me_ about this.”

“About what?” Keith asks.

“Aaaaagh!” Lance smacks his face into his hands, infuriated, “You obviously know why you came here, so would you stop playing dumb and just get this over with!”

Keith says nothing but shifts his gaze to the foot of the chair Lance is sitting in.

“I’m waaaiting,” Lance taps a foot impatiently, though his socked foot hardly makes a sound against the weird smooth space-floor. He watches Keith’s nose scrunch up as he runs his fingernails over his wrists, his arms, his shoulders… he’s leaving tiny white lines behind. Lance hides his concern with a huff.

Keith takes a deep breath through his nose, chewing at his lip (which, Lance notes, is incredibly chapped).

“Have you ever heard of chapstick?” Lance blurts out.

“What?” Keith asks, flicking his eyes up to Lance’s chin for a split second before returning his gaze to the chair leg.

Lance sighs and grabs a tiny jar off his desk, unscrewing the lid and holding it out to Keith, “It’s lip balm. Coran helped me make it.”

Keith grunts and shifts his eyes to the lip balm for just long enough to dip his finger in and apply some to his lips, then flicks his eyes down to his own knees, where his hands are now resting. He’s no longer tracing his own skin with his fingers. Just fidgeting with the folds of his pants and rubbing his lips together in contemplation.

Lance applies a bit of balm to his own lips and then puts it away and turns back to Keith, “You uh… you okay, buddy?”

“No,” Keith finally responds, his face crinkling up as if just saying that one word is painful.

“Welp, glad we’ve established the obvious now,” Lance snarks.

Keith shoots a glare at his chin before returning his eyes to his own hands, running his fingers over the seams and folds at his knees over and over, ad infinitum. Lance is sure his fingers must be raw.

“Could you maybe… explain what’s wrong so I can actually help?” Lance asks, “Cuz I’m at a loss, here.”

Keith’s jaw grinds together, his face flushing.

“Or not,” Lance shrugs.

Without warning (or at least, without any warning that Lance picked up on) Keith turns around and punches the wall. Full force.

Lance flinches, “What the hell, man?!”

The castle walls are practically indestructible, so the wall isn’t any worse for the wear. Keith’s hand, though, is bleeding.

Panic rises in Lance’s chest, but Keith just calmly turns back to his original position. His eyes are back on the crumpled shirt in the corner of the room, and his left hand cradles his injured right hand in his lap.

“Shit,” Lance whispers.

Keith takes another deep breath. And another. Until the red begins to drain from his face.

They sit in tense silence for a while. Now Lance is the one fidgeting.

Finally, Keith stands up, fixing his eyes on the floor at his feet, “I should go.”

Lance jumps up and waves his arms frantically, “No no no no no! Uh, you should… uh…”

The red paladin begins walking towards the door. Lance panics and grabs the back of his shirt. Keith clenches his hands into fists (Lance notes with relief that his right hand _isn’t_ broken) and sucks air in though his teeth. Lance freezes.

“You should let go,” Keith says in a low, steady voice.

Lance glances at Keith’s shirt in his grasp, then Keith’s bloodied fist, then the back of Keith’s stupid mullet. Finally, to everyone’s surprise (but especially his own), he says, “No.”

Keith brings both hands up, mashing his face into his palms and letting out a shaky breath. Lance can see how red his ears are even from behind.

“You’re uh… you’re not gonna punch _me_ , right” Lance asks nervously.

“You have no idea how much effort is going into not punching you right now,” Keith mumbles into his hands. It’s the longest sentence he’s said coming in.

They just stand there for a while, Keith’s face in his hands, the back of his shirt balled up in Lance’s white-knuckled fist. The only sound in the room is their breathing. Keith’s is slow and loud and shaky. Lance’s is rapid, anxious.

Finally, Keith breaks the silence with a whisper, “I’m gonna sit back down now.”

Lance nods and lets go of his shirt, returning to his chair as Keith returns to the bed.

After another dobosh of silence, Lance speaks up quietly, “Why did you come to me?”

Keith focuses his eyes intensely on Lance’s socked feet, “Because you offered.”

Lance suspects there’s more to it than that, but he lets the topic die and tries to think of what to say next. After a moment of thought, he asks, “Did you, uh… did you do anything, or are you just worried you will?”

“You mean _besides_ punching a wall?” Keith grumbles, but there’s laughter in his voice.

“Yeah, uh… besides that.”

“Not yet,” Keith affirms.

Suddenly, an idea forms in Lance’s head. He blushes and stammers out, “What if, uh… would it help if… you said you do it because of the tension? And anger and stuff? What if… would someone else touching you help? To release the tension?”

“Uh…” Keith blinks.

“That came out wrong,” Lance blushes even harder, “I mean like… we could take you to Hunk for a backrub or something!”

Keith squints, “I don’t want to drag Hunk into this.”

“Okay, uh…” Lance ponders, “What about Shiro? You guys are all like… touchy feely and brotherly and stuff. I’m sure he’s great at backrubs.”

Silence once again envelops the room. Keith’s eyes don’t move from Lance’s toes. Finally, he speaks up in a small voice, “What about you?”

“Excuse me?” Lance sputters.

It’s Keith’s turn to blush, “Could you, um… could you do it? Not a backrub, I mean… maybe just touch my arms?”

“I, um,” Lance is blushing at least as hard as Keith, “Sure?”

Keith scoots over and Lance joins him on the bed.

“So uh…” Lance says nervously, “What do I… do?”

Keith shrugs and holds out his arm to the blue paladin, shifting his gaze to the bathroom door.

Lance blinks down at Keith’s arm. This whole situation is so surreal. What is he supposed to do with this arm? This arm that belongs to, by all counts, his least favorite person on Team Voltron. Rub it, he supposes. So he does.

He reaches out an open palm and runs it from Keith’s shoulder down to the back of his hand. Then he takes both hands and runs them down opposite sides of the red paladin’s arm. He continues like this for several doboshes, unsure when to stop. Eventually he switches to his fingertips instead of open palms, eliciting an unexpectedly contented sigh from the red paladin. This makes Lance blush more.

Finally, after Keith’s breathing and muscles seem to have relaxed, Lance asks, ”Other arm?”

“Mmm,” Keith hums and, to Lance’s surprise, flops over onto his side – onto _Lance’s lap_ – and holds up his other arm.

Lance takes a sharp breath as blood rushes to his face and a tingle runs up his spine. He freezes for a split second, then pushes his heart back down from his throat and gives this arm the same treatment as the last.

After a few doboshes, Keith sleepily grabs Lance’s hand as it reaches his own, then sits up and (for the first time since arriving) looks Lance directly in the eye.

Lance blinks in surprise and tries to suppress his blush. _Oh God, why do I want to kiss him right now?_

Keith gently squeezes the hand he’s snatched from Lance and whispers “thanks” before starting to stand up.

Lance makes some incoherent noises and clutches at Keith’s hand before it slips away from his, tugging him back onto the bed. He notices Keith is blushing, too.

“Uh, can I…” Lance fumbles for words, “Would it be okay if I…” it doesn’t seem like an appropriate time to initiate a kiss, “How about I brush your hair, just in case!”

“Just in case of _what_?” Keith asks, amusement on his face.

“Just in case it helps!” Lance blurts out.

Keith lets out something between a snort and a chuckle as Lance scuttles off to the bathroom to retrieve a brush.

Lance returns a few ticks later, brush in hand, “Okay, got it! I’m gonna need a better angle if I’m gonna do the brushy-brushy, so I’m gonna get behind you.”

“The brushy-brushy?” snorts Keith, “Really?”

“I’m hearin’ no complaints, so here I come!” Lance dives onto the bed and crawls into a kneeling position behind Keith, “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” shrugs Keith.

“Cool cool,” says Lance as he reaches up to run the brush through Keith’s hair for the first time. _Holy heck, his hair is like silk!_ Lance refrains from speaking his first thought aloud, instead telling Keith, “Wow, for someone who distains personal hygiene as much as you do, your hair sure is soft.”

The corner of Keith’s mouth ticks up in a smile, “Was that a compliment?”

“No,” insists Lance.

The blue paladin continues to brush his rival’s (friend’s?) hair in silence for a bit, but eventually he announces, “My legs hurt, I’m changing positions!”

“No one’s stopping you,” shrugs Keith.

“Cool,” Lance says as he switches from kneeling behind Keith to sitting behind him with his legs out in a V formation. Both boys blush as they realize how close Lance is to straddling Keith’s hips, but there’s no going back now. Switching positions again would just draw attention to how awkward this position was. So Lance simply resumes brushing Keith’s hair as if nothing had changed.

Somewhere in the course of this, Lance makes an offhanded comment about Keith’s mullet. Keith turns around and sleepily grabs Lance’s brushing hand, causing his heartrate to skyrocket. _Oh quiznak, is this it? The moment he punches me?_ But it wasn’t. Instead, he leans in and gives Lance… a kiss? Just a quick peck on the lips, but still. A kiss.

Lance stares, wide-eyed, “…what?”

The color drains from Keith’s face and he pulls back, covering his mouth with both hands.

“Uh, I mean… I…” Lance scrambles for words, “Oh, screw it.” With that, he leans forward and kisses Keith’s forehead.

The red paladin’s hands remain clamped over his mouth, but the color floods back into his face, his cheeks and ears burning bright red.

“Are we… cool?” asks Lance, hesitant.

Keith nods.

“Was that… weird?” Lance inquires further.

Keith nods emphatically, finally lowering his hands from his mouth.

“Are you okay?” Lance’s brow creases with concern.

Keith pauses, then nods once more.

Tentatively, Lance spreads his arms and scoops the red paladin up in a very shaky hug.

Keith leans into the hug and murmurs, “I told you I don’t hate you.”

Lance sighs, “Okay, _maybe_ I don’t hate you. But I’m still gonna win our competition!”

Keith chuckles and nuzzles into Lance’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Lance is starting to understand why Keith had come to him for help instead of the other paladins. He smiles and gives the top of Keith’s head a quick kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna come say hi, I'm [Agapostemon](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> Also: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


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